Chapel Market is one of those scruffy streets you’re unlikely to come across unless you’re local. But scratch its surface – market purveying items in colours never found in nature, shops selling discount footwear, a bewildering quantity of shopping trolleys – and here be treasures.

There’s the redoubtable Euphorium bakery. The Naked Sausage foodstall, which knocks out decent burgers and bangers with the most dizzying collection of condiments. And wonderful Manze’s, one of London’s original eel and pie shops in all its mirrored, shiny-tiled glory.

Then there’s the roti stall, where three quid buys a fresh, fluffy bread wrap stuffed with excellent fillings. But now the same owners also run the restaurant space behind it, rechristened Delhi Grill. Anyone mourning the previous tenant, the rather good Rooburoo, should get down here pronto. It’s a little belter.

Brothers Aman and Preet Grewal (it’s a family operation; recipes come from wives, cousins and aunts) have based it on the idea of a dhaba, one of the ad hoc, shacky restaurants that cluster round petrol stations in northern India. Anyone who thinks Delhi Grill, with its azure walls, Indian newspapers as wallcoverings and Bollywood-blasting telly, is on the shonky side should see the originals. A dhaba makes this look like the Taj Mahal.

But we’re not here to admire the scenery, we’re here to eat our way through the admirably succinct menu. With the exception of an uninspiring biryani, the food is a joy. You can tell they’re serious when the relishes arrive, no catering pack of jammy mango here but subtle, garlicky chickpea purée, fresh, minty yoghurt and a magnificent beetroot chutney.

Then rotis: freshly made, warm, seductive little breads, perfect for mopping up sauces; in the evenings there’s a bar where a roti-wallah cooks them up like a dervish. Naan, thinner and crisper than the norm, are also made fresh to order. And the rogan josh is a beauty, each spice thrillingly distinct, the meat slow-cooked until you could cut it with a spoon. I’m eating with two Scots who maintain you can’t get a decent pakora down south but the marinated tilapia in gram flour batter has us fighting over every piece.